The Daughter of Magic
by InsideOutsideWithin2468
Summary: Divinity is not without it's limits. Especially when applied to Bonnie Bennett.


**Prolouge**

Bonnie shouldn't have opened the door.

* * *

Circe had always known she wanted to be alone. Not some random, boring eye candy for a weak man, nor like Qetsiyah, her younger sister, chasing after the pleasure of a mortal throne.

It was odd really.

Her mother, Hekate, would call it amusing, that Circe wanted so little for herself. But she never did intercede.

In the beginning Circe was wordless, nothing but power and a collection of sensations: warmth, quiet, contentment. Fire and lightening and water and air circle around her, through her, but it doesn't hurt. It feels like it is apart of Circe.

When the darkness unfurls, she rises with a bone-popping stretch and strides away, uncaring of the chill that rushes in in its absence. Leaving the flames, lightening, water, and air.

She blinks into the shadows surrounding her, staring after the fading sounds of rustling and snapping, feeling small and exposed. Only then does she notice the little ball of warmth huddled around herself, pushing into her belly as if trying to crawl inside of her. It whimpers, faint and strained.

It smells like Circe and also of the sheltering dark, so she holds it more tightly

The shape she's been curled around feels just like Circe too.

It must be hers then.

Little-her has no qualms about falling back into that dreamless sleep, so Circe does as well.

It's nearly dark when they are awakened again. Little-her presses harder into her side, shivering, and Circe stays perfectly curled over Little-her as best as she can.

She cannot see into the consuming darkness but she knows something is there nonetheless.

Something is watching. Waiting.

When she gathers her courage and stands tall Circe realizes the thing waiting for her is everywhere. A thing, a hole, and darkness.

The eyes that shine out of the darkness are shockingly wrong, alien, not hers. They're white, when they should be gold.

It makes her feel wrong inside herself. So she changes to match. Safety lies in belonging.

Little-her stays the same, seemingly unable to change. Circe doesn't mind, little-her smells like Circe still.

_Hm__, _the everywhere creature grunts in quiet amusement, neither sound nor silence, though its voice causes something inside of her to hum,_Your father's child, indeed._

_What? _she asks, though the meaning is abruptly there, like it's been hiding inside her skull all along. Father. The knowing-self that came before and helped spark her own.

White eyes slide away as Little-her crawls hesitantly out to stand beside Circe, leaning into her with its face half-pressed into his side. A slow blink: the dark thing is surprised.

_You hold tightly to the little one. _

She growls at the thought, pulling Little-Her closer with one arm. _It's mine. _

The darkness around snorts. _She is your sister. And not likely to survive on her own_. _She came from a goddess but is not one, not like you Circe. __You are made of fire, lightening, water and air. The little one is made of earth. _

Even as she's growling louder, she's flooded with new knowledge. A sister. She. Different from Circe, but not. She's a spark; she could shelter her own small creatures someday.

She blinks up at incurious white eyes and knows.

_You're our mother.__ Your name is Hekate. You are magic. _She cocks her head with a frown. _How do I know this?_

Their mother's eyes gleam with new interest; she's done something strange again. _You know because you know. You question because of your father's influence, I suppose.__You are my first, and the little one beside you...Qetsiyah, she will be named, will be my last. _

Circe huddles thoughtfully in on herself, the world's colors resuming their sharp edges.

_Father_, she echoes._Child?_ Small things, like Circe and her sister. _Will I meet him?_

_Your father's a wanderer_, their mother says with a shrug, shifting to curl her huge body up in a tighter ball._You might see him someday. You might not._ _As_ _for__ Qetsiyah, she must be given to the mortals below. She is my gift to them._

Circe has to fight the urge to attack. She doesn't want to give little-her away. And even still curiosity swells deeply. _What about me? Am I a gift as well?_

Although she can't see the smile, she feels it, _No. You are like me, young one. Mine._

The all-consuming aura of Hekate blinks out in an instant. They are alone again.

Part of Circe wants to join her--wants to rejoin the hungry void that spat them out--but she doesn't think it will weave them together. She thinks she'd just be eaten, and she doesn't want to be eaten.

She's not sure their mother would notice, or if she did, that she'd care.

Circe glances down at her sister, who peers up at her trustingly from the shelter of her arms, and tries to see what their mother sees. She can't. Her sister isn't a gift to be given away.

If she won't survive on her own, Circe will just have to keep Qetsiyah with her.

A stick cracks.

Wolves.

They are curious but not hunting. Circe knows they will be safe with the wolves. Qetsiyah and Circe will belong to nature, until the day Qetsiyah will be touched by humankind. But for now, the wolves surround them, taking them into their warmth.

* * *

She is pulled in to the open door, drawing her energy into it. It reminds her of Persephone in a way, wonders if this is how the other goddess was ripped into Hades' palace.

Her elegant, Greek-styled dress sweeping in broad, graceful strokes behind her as the door closes behind her.

The air feels different, in this...realm? She isn't sure where she is, or even what it is. But her being changes inside of her, curls around her heart and soul, thrumming through the golden blood in her veins.

Before her is a girl sitting on a bed crying.

Circe has seen many girls cry, pray, beg, and plead. But none have been strong enough to drag her towards them. The girl smells like Qetsiyah, looks like her too, it makes Circe want to attach the girl to her side.

"Hello." Her voice is warm, like a whisper of air through catacombs.

The girl's jaw drops and she draws herself away.

For a moment nothing existed except the glory of light and power before her. Something hurt, and Bonnie realized her lungs screamed for air. This things light was white and rainbow. The painful sharp ripple of sunlight on a lake.

"Who," her voice shakes but her eyes are hard and determined. "Who the hell are you?"

Circe frowns sitting on the edge of the bed. The room is nothing like the great halls where other Gods roam, but Circe likes its simplicity. "I am Circe. You called me here."

The girl, Bonnie, swallows harshly. "I-" she seems to choke on the word. "I did?"

The Goddess blinks.

"You aren't a witch."

Circe nods in agreement. She reaches out to touch and Bonnie unconsciously reaches out too.

"I brought you here when I opened the door in my head."

Tilting her head, the Goddess smiles then, wide, showing neat white teeth. It's not a smile a normal person would give.

It is bright, and it causes a warmth to flow through Bonnie. It reminds her of when she first met Lucy, _Family, _that thing inside of her screams. It is energy full of languid melodies twisted with dynamic slides between suspense and vibrancy.

The woman before Bonnie is beautiful, and glowing, her beauty similar to that of elegant architecture all throughout Rome. Divine and awe-inspiring.

"I didn't mean to bring you here," Bonnie tries weakly, feeling small. "I was just tired of being alone...and sad."

Her house seems to groan, stuffed too full. There's no room when so much power fills it.

Circe shifts.

"This world isn't like mine," Circe suddenly says. "But you are like me."

"I'm a witch," Bonnie counters immediately.

Circe finally meets Bonnie's eyes, burn through her, and she smiles again.

* * *

Circe is a quiet personality, unobtrusive, thoughtful, and severe.

It takes a while for Bonnie to breathe easily in her presence and even then it is difficult sometimes.

Coming home after school, Bonnie immediately goes out to the backyard. Circe is always out there, with a book, relaxed and calm. She's big on nature- not gardens, or other cultivated things, but wild places, where the trees grow as tall as houses.

Sometimes she had bulky tomes, medical journals that Bonnie couldn't really understand a word of, textbooks that no one ever really read for pleasure, religious scriptures, and whimsical poetry when she was feeling indulgent. (All which Bonnie had no idea how Circe got her hands on).

When she sees Bonnie, she taps the grass beside her. "Come lie with me," she ushers lightly.

Bonnie immediately eases into that spot.

"Now, is it just me or does that cloud look like a jellyfish?"

Because these are the types of profound discussions the two have during the day. At night, it changes into something somber and heavy with words and truths.

"It doesn't look like a jellyfish at all, but I can see a horse."

"Bonnie," Circe begins seriously. "In what world does that look like a horse."

"You have to tilt your head-" Bonnie cuts herself off with a laugh. "It's abstract okay."

And Bonnie knows Circe is trying to get her to relax. Knows instinctively that Circe can't leave until Bonnie let's her go, and Bonnie doesn't know how to let go.

"I started watching a show," Circe then informs playfully. "It's called _Doctor On Call, _It's wonderful and I completely reccomend it. Of course the doctor himself is a terrible idiot but the nurses seem to like him. He's called Jackson Powers- admittedly with a name like that he'd be more suited to being a GI joe, but he's incredibly suave and always gets the diagnosis wrong. Not that they're supposed to be wrong, mind you, but the scriptwriters are clearly colossal idiots. I have been writing them letters of complaint nearly every week."

And Bonnie laughs and feels the weight of everything seem to drip off of her, finally, she has someone who is always there. Who smiles and doesn't talk to her only to use her.

* * *

"Can you- no offense, but you can't go outside if you don't stop glowing."

Bonnie is trying (and failing) at wrapping her head around this entire situation, watching as Circe plays with the T.V remote, looking more awed then a divine creature should be at a movie.

Circe tilts her head, achingly earnest. "I'm not glowing anymore then you are."

"I'm _not _glowing at all."

"Yes you are," Circe replies pleasantly. She stands then and skips, yes skips, towards Bonnie. They are the same height (surprisingly, you would think a literal Goddess would at least be taller than 5'2) and their eyes have no trouble finding each other.

"No I'm-" Bonnie breathes in deeply. "Okay look, I understand you don't like being stuck here but you can't just run around. People will start asking questions I don't have any answers for."

Circe presses her lips together, and her eyes follow the line of Bonnie's leg, to the fireplace, a fire starts which causes Bonnie to flinch. She watches it, her eyes darkening, pupils flaring wide despite the relative brightness.

"Curiosity is good." She slides around the room, her golden sandals wrapping around her calves elegantly. "My mother would say so, anyway."

"You have a mother?" Bonnie asks quietly, she takes a step towards Circe, drawn towards this...girl? She looks to be older than Bonnie or maybe the same age, maybe twenty, or twenty-five, Bonnie isn't really sure at all. She seems timeless.

"We all have mothers," Circe replies. "They are the only ones capable of truly creating new life."

The Bennett can't help but swallow at that admission. The local church would probably disagree.

"I-" Bonnie shakes her head, trying again. "I don't know why you are here, Circe, or for how long, or what exactly it is I did that called you to me. I just don't want anyone to know about you until I get some answers."

"And I understand that," Circe replies, her voice the very definition of patient. "But I could be stuck here for a very long time, Bonnie. And it isn't fair to me to expect that I could be happy being stuck so long in one place."

"You said you were alone."

Circe's eyes flash at that.

"Alone," she confirms. "But not caged."

Bonnie groans and nearly begins to cry when the front door opens.

Caroline wastes no time barging in, her blonde hair jumping with every step. "Can you believe this stupid ball thing the Mikaelson family is trying to put together, like what century is this-"

Her voice abruptly cuts off when she sees Circe. Staring at the Goddess with wide, almost devoted eyes. Her hands holding the dress, and a bag filled with shoes and makeup immediately falter.

Circe smiles sweetly.

"Hello."

Caroline drags her eyes to Bonnie.

"Caroline this is my cousin Circe," Bonnie mutters weakly.

"We are not-"

"Circe meet Caroline," Bonnie cuts the Goddess off.

She tipped her head back to look at Caroline, shifts slightly.

And well, Caroline rushes forward to shake Circe's hand, and Circe just stares at their joined hands curiously.

"Caroline," Circe begins quietly, and her accent is flowy despite the way she slurs her words, finding difficulty maneuvering her soft lips around them. She takes another pause before suddenly appearing to gain her wits, perfectly reasonable of a foreigner who knew the land's customs but was not used to them. "You feel like my father," And then she again smiles, fully, and adorably kind

(It's admittedly brilliant, a foreign cousin from a land far away)

"Uh," Caroline says after a second "What?"

"You feel like my father," Circe repeats, clearing her throat daintily and peering at Caroline through long lashes. "He was not a creature of blood like you but your constitution is similar to his."

Caroline nods, not exactly sure what she is agreeing to. "I guess."

Circe still isn't shaking her hand, or doing anything with it, just holding it. "So uh, are you going to let go of my hand?"

Circe actually blushes, looks down with wide eyes and steps back, she then makes an unsure noise, as if not sure how to express herself before turning to Bonnie.

_Caroline inwardly squeals like a little girl because that was frickin' adorable and now she wants Circe to be her friend._

"I'm sorry," Circe wraps her arms around herself and with a wince says, "I am not very familiar with the customs of this land." Circe then beckons Caroline forward with a simple wave of her hand. "I wish to greet you, as is customary where I am from." She leans forward cautiously, letting the blonde make her choice. Caroline hesitates on it before following her instructions and matching her lean, unsure as to her intentions.

She places a kiss high on one cheekbone, and then the other, making Caroline jump as if she were electrocuted. She then kisses the blonde chastely and swiftly on the lips, leaving her completely shocked. Circe straightens up, hands clasped demurely in front of her. "Ah, and please. I hope you will consider me a friend."

"I would love to consider you a friend," Caroline says, simply unused to this level of charming energy being thrown at her, "Do you mind if I ask where you are from?"

"I'm-"

"Caroline," Bonnie interrupts again, unreasonably terrified Circe would say something like 'heaven', "Was there a- uh, was there a reason you stopped by?"

"You said you would help me get ready for the ball," Caroline replied with a raised brow.

"Oh," Bonnie says with a false smile.

"Ball?" Circe asks lowly, "Will there be dancing?"

Caroline grins, "Oh yes, there is always some kind of dancing at things like this. Do you want to be my date?"

"Care!" Bonnie immediately snaps. "You are not taking my cousin to ball hosted by originals. She could be in danger or something-"

"-I'm very capable of protecting myself-" Circe helpfully interceded.

"And, not to mention I'm not even going!"

"Why aren't you going?" Circe said with a frown. "You would look stunning in a gown of any kind."

And the complement is so sincere and honest that Bonnie immediately feels ten times taller.

"Well the originals aren't friends to us," Bonnie tried, almost desperately because this cannot be fucking happening.

"Then why did they invite you?"

"It's a powerplay," Caroline comments crossing her arms.

"Ah," Circe's eyes flash, and there's an undercurrent of something very specific there that's almost cutting. It's a little terrifying. "Then let us play."

* * *


End file.
